I Can't Dance
by Chibi StarLyte
Summary: Ike discovers Pit dancing to a weird-sounding song, and when invited to dance, he declines and says that dancing is stupid. He feels bad for hurting Pit's feelings, so he consults Marth for dancing lessons. Crackfic, IkexPit, MarthxRoy, kind of fluffy.
1. Dancing Is Stupid

I hope you all promise not to laugh at me because of where I got the idea for this. John made me watch a video of Ike and Marth dancing to Caramelldansen, and while Marth was totally enjoying himself, Ike was just all, "Meh." I thought that if Ike ever felt the need to dance, he could ask Pretty Boy for dancing lessons. So yeah...this is pretty much a two-chapter crackfic. IkexPit, if it isn't already obvious...and just for the purpose of Marth having a dance partner, Roy will also be around...especially because I love the MarthxRoy pairing.

I wrote most of this during class or at work when I was on break. If I ever get around to editing it, I'll have a better version posted. Yup.

And...for some reason, Pit always struck me as the neat-freak of the couple. Ha.

**Disclaimer: **Pit, Ike, Marth all belong to Nintendo. Even if my car is named Pit Icarus. xD

--

"You know…you look really silly with that bandana," the Crimean said, glancing upon his roommate in amusement. At the beginning of every month, the angel decided to turn housewife and completely clean and scrub and polish their shared room until it was spic-n-span. What would a tidying housewife be without a bandana? Of course Ike took the pleasure in making fun of it.

"Hush up," Pit commanded as he sprayed the sliding door to the balcony with glass cleaner, wiping it with all his might until it squeaked with a streak-free shine. Smiling in satisfaction, he set the rag and spray bottle aside and took at the seat at the foot of his bed. His cerulean eyes gazed around the room as he admired his hard work; all the furniture had been polished to perfection, all the glass was so clean, he could barely distinguish it from air. "I'm ready for a break," he said, his voice strained as he stretched his arms straight up, arching his back with a groan.

"Me too," Ike added, folding his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow. He hadn't moved from lounging on his bed since Pit began his cleaning escapade.

"But you haven't even done anything!" the angel whined…and with good reason. "I'm the one that's been doing all the work!"

"Watching you clean is extremely taxing," the bluenette retorted, trying to stifle a yawn. His gesture of sleepiness turned into a sudden sputter as a dirty sock flew out of nowhere, aimed for his face and hitting him square in the mouth. He spat in disgust and wiped his lips, shooting an angry glare in Pit's general direction. "What the hell was that for?!"

"Just because you live like a slob doesn't mean you can litter my side of the room with your junk," the brunette said crossly, picking up the rest of Ike's random belongings that lay strewn across the floor, most of it being clothing that needed washing. "Everything needs to be off the floor so I can vacuum."

"Jeez, _mom_, do I need to make my bed, too?" Ike questioned, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He crossed one leg over the other, still lying on his bed.

"That would be nice if you did," Pit replied, ignoring the Crimean's cynical tone completely.

"Pfft," the bluenette scoffed, shifting a bit on his bed. He watched as the angel gathered every clothing article he could into his arm without falling over. An expression of horror befell Ike's face as the ball of dirty laundry slowly approached him. "…Pit?"

As if on cue, the brunette dropped the clothe atop Ike's bed in a heap. He glared at the Crimean like a wife would glower at her husband for being a lazy prick. "Laundry duty is _yours._ Get to it," he ordered, his voice unwavering, his bright blue eyes hardened and unyielding.

Ike couldn't decide if it was Pit's stern tone or the fact that he was, well, actually being stern that frightened him more. Nevertheless, he was in no position to argue. Muttering a few choice words under his breath, the bluenette began the chore of sorting the pile of laundry on his bed.

Pit smiled, happy to see Ike taking part in caring for their room. While his roommate was busy with his assignment, the angel skipped over to the door, yanking it open enough to pull the vacuum into the room from the hall. For this particular cleaning method, he was sure glad he had wings; that way, he could fly as he swept and prevent his icky footprints from soiling the vacuumed floor.

The Crimean nearly jumped out of his skin as Pit switched on the vacuum. He glanced up from his annoying chore, a confused look on his face. Pit was…flying. "What the…?" Ike wondered aloud, unable to even hear himself. With a grunt, he set back to work on sorting the clothes, making sure that he didn't drop anything on the floor…lest he wanted to face Pit's wrath.

Yikes.

At least the loud roar of the vacuum has stopped.

Hearing the angel let out an enormous sigh as he flopped himself onto his bed, Ike took this as a hint that Operation: Hardcore Cleaning was finally finished. He dropped the last sock atop its designated pile as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed. "Hey, Pit," he said, getting up off his lazy butt for the first time that day, "the laundry's sorted. You can go do it now."

…

Not receiving an immediate response, the Crimean strode over to the angel's bed where he lay sprawled out atop the barely-wrinkled covers. He took a knee at Pit's bedside, poking his shoulder a few times. "Pit? You awake?"

"Laundry is your job today. I told you that already," Pit replied, not moving a muscle. He didn't even bother to open his eyes. "Now go do it."

Ike released a heavy sigh, hunching his shoulders. "Fine," he said, his bottom lip protruding in a pout. He seized a few quarters from Pit's nightstand--operating the laundry facilities cost money, after all--and shoved them into his pocket. Grabbing the smallest pile of clothes from his bed, he left the room and headed down the hall to the laundry lounge, leaving Pit alone to rest from his long day of cleaning.

--

After a few minutes of struggling with the door knob, Ike stumbled into the room, careful not to drop any piece of now-clean clothing. He plopped the laundry onto his bed--which, in his absence, had been made--and looked to Pit's bed, expecting to see the angel asleep.

The only problem? Pit was nowhere to be found.

The room was still in tip-top shape as it had been before he left, which the bluenette thought was definitely a good sign. He noticed that the sliding glass door at the foot of the angel's bed was cracked ajar, and…come to think of it, didn't a radio used to sit on Pit's dresser?

Coming to a simple conclusion regarding his roommate's whereabouts, the Crimean decided to step outside onto the balcony. There, he found exactly what went missing..

Some strange song he had never heard before--it sounded like overly-cute jibberish--came from the speakers of the little boom box.

Pit was…also dancing.

Cocking a brow, Ike leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. "Pit, what are you doing?"

The angel's grooving ceased, for he was caught off guard by the swordsman's sudden presence behind him. He turned to face Ike, and immediately, his face lit up, complete with the biggest, brightest grin Ike had ever seen to date. "Ike!" Pit exclaimed, closing the distance between himself and his roommate with an excited hop. He grabbed the bluenette's arm and yanked it a bit. "Dance with me!"

"What…?" Ike inquired, tearing his arm away from the winged boy's grasp. "No, I'm not dancing with you."

"Why not?" the brunette asked, tilting his head to the side. His smile faded, but only slightly. "It's fun!"

"Dancing is _stupid_, and that song is annoying," the Crimean muttered, turning his head away. In all reality…he thought himself to be a terrible dancer, and thus never actually found it appropriate to make a fool of himself. Also…he had never even heard the song in question before, yet here he was passing judgment on it. He instantly regretted saying what he did, though.

Pit's face fell; he looked devastatingly crestfallen. The sad shadows in his cerulean irises made Ike wish he would have shoved his foot into his mouth. "A-all right, then," the angel said, his tone quiet and depressed. He headed over to his little radio and turned it off, picking it up and hugging it close. "I'll just…go somewhere else, then…" The brunette made his way past Ike, refusing to even look at the swordsman as he stepped through the door that was left wide open, slowly and almost silently closing it.

The Crimean merely stood alone out on the balcony, wanting to send a drill through his temples.

"Damn it," he cursed, sliding down the wall to a sit, his right knee bent, his left leg completely straight. He didn't mean to hurt Pit's feelings…not in the slightest. He felt like such an ass, especially because the angel did all the cleaning. What did he do? Lie around on his butt all day. Then he just had to go ruin all the fun just because he had no confidence in his dancing abilities…or rather, lack thereof.

Maybe it was time to seek out some dancing lessons…and Ike knew the perfect person to ask.

--

I'll have the next chapter up once I get around to writing it. Hope this isn't too craptastic so far. ..

Until next time,  
Chibi


	2. Two Left Feet

Ah ha, well, after quite a long while, I'm finally back with chapter two! This fic was giving me serious problems. I hit writer's block about five times before I could actually produce something decent, and because of the long wait, this chapter is just shy of 3000 words. Yay.

Sorry to everyone who has been waiting for this, and thank you for being so patient. Also, a big thanks to everyone who reviewed! Hopefully this chapter won't let you down.

**Warning: Shounen-ai, blah blah. You know the drill.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ike, Pit, Marth, or Roy. I wish I did, though. T.T**

--

_Knock, knock._

_Silence…_

_Knock, knock._

Silence…

_KNOCK, KNOCK._

Silence…

"Damn it, Marth! Answer the door!" Ike yelled angrily, now pounding on the door with a tightly-balled fist. He allowed his arm to fall limp at his side as he waited for the Altean to open up. He could faintly hear the sound of cabinets slamming, some shuffling around, and feet scraping across the carpet towards the door. A moment later, the beaten slab of painted wood opened, revealing a perfect-haired prince, a pair of sunglasses tastefully in place of his headband. The rest of him, however, didn't look as prim and proper as usual. Instead of his usual get-up, Marth sported a dark wash pair of jeans and a tight black tee, both of which seemed to be thrown on hastily.

"My gosh, Ike, learn to be patient! I was fixing my hair," the pretty swordsman said, running his fingers through his partially-styled bangs.

"…You're such a _girl_," the Crimean said in disdain, pressing the heel of his palm to his clothed forehead. Even though he was in his street clothes, he still wore his trademark headband.

Marth sighed and rolled his eyes in an annoyed fashion. "Did you come all the way down here just to inform me of that?" he inquired, preparing to close the door to his room.

"I, well…uh, no," Ike muttered, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

The prince rapidly tapped his foot, clearly impatient. "What do you want, then? I have certain _matters _to attend to."

"Oh, well, if you're busy, I'll just hit you up lat--"

"Is that Ike out there?" a surprise voice called from the interior of the room. A mess of red hair appeared behind the Altean. The owner of said crazy locks shoved the pretty swordsman aside.

"Roy?!" the Crimean sputtered, not because it was Roy standing in front of him…rather it was Roy wearing nothing but a _towel _standing in front of him. In the Smash Mansion. Without being a Smasher himself. "What the hell…?" He couldn't even form a coherent sentence.

"Master Hand said I could visit Marth for the weekend!" the shortest of the three happily announced, throwing his hands into the air in excitement. The white linen around his waist began to slip without him holding it up.

So _that _was what the Altean had to "attend to."

"Roy!" Marth hissed, seizing the towel before the other's stick and berries revealed themselves to the whole world. Ike covered his eyes for fear of being scarred for life. "Go in and dress yourself, please," the prince said as calmly as ever to the blushing carrot top. As his boyfriend ducked back into the dark sanctuary of their room, the Altean turned to the Crimean. "Anyway, what is it that you need?"

"I, well…uh, you see…er, I…," the bluenette muttered, feeling several droplets of sweat slide down the side of his face. His neck had already turned red and rough from his habitual anxious gesture.

"Whatever it is, I'm almost frightened to find out," Marth huffed. "Anything that can spook _you_, of all people, has to be something serious." Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his blue eyes locked on the Crimean, unwavering. "Spill, Ike."

Silence.

"_Ike_."

"IWANTYOUTOTEACHMETODANCE!" the bigger swordsman shouted all in one breath, his words strung together in a jumbled mess. Thankfully none of the other Smashers happened to be around; otherwise, he'd of made a damn fool of himself and attracted undesired attention. He bowed his head in shame, expecting Marth to criticize him, or poke fun at him, or…something.

"What on earth would you want me to do that for?" the prince questioned, his tone holding more curiosity than anything. "I never would have pinned you as the type to…well, want to dance."

"It's…kind of a long story," Ike began, lifting his head slightly, his gaze still downcast. "The other day…I hurt Pit's feelings. In a sort of roundabout way, I called him stupid for dancing. He hasn't been back to our room since, and I haven't seen him in days…," his voice drifted as he let out an elongated sigh. "I want to try to patch things up…and I thought learning to dance would be a good way to do just that."

Marth flashed an understanding smile, holding out his hand in a welcoming manner. "In that case, I'd be more than delighted to teach you a few steps."

"Really?" the Crimean said, his eyes lighting up, his voice almost to the point of squeaking. "Thank you, Marth!"

"You're welcome," the Altean replied, backing into his room. "Come on in; Roy should be dressed by now."

Nodding, Ike followed suit. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness of the room in comparison to the bright lights in the hall. The curtains were drawn shut, which gave the hint that whatever Roy and Marth were doing, they didn't want anyone to see. The bluenette shuddered at the thought.

Thankfully, though, the red-head was no longer naked. He dressed himself in tight black skater jeans with a black tee and a long-sleeved red shirt underneath. Of course, his outfit wasn't complete without his bright smile.

"So, Ike," Marth said from across the room, flipping on the main light switch, "is there any particular type of dance you'd like to learn?"

Ike blinked repeatedly until his eyes adjusted to the light. "Um," he began, rubbing his eyelids, "not really. Can we, uh, start with something kind of easy?"

"Sure." He extended his hand to his friend, beckoning him over to the other side of the room. Ike complied to his gesture. "Come here I'll teach you some elementary steps." His blue eyes glanced to his lover. He didn't even have to tell Roy to come over; the boy knew exactly what he said through his stare, and immediately joined the other two swordsmen. "All right. I'll be in the middle. Ike, you stand to my right, Roy to my left." The other two obeyed the pretty boy's orders, and the three of them stood in a short line. "Watch me first. Then, I'll give you a count-off and you repeat the steps. Understand?"

"Yeah, got it," the Crimean said with a nod. He watched in full focus as Marth went forward, stepping lightly and quickly. His hips swayed with his movements. Returning to the line, he repeated the dance in a backward motion before standing still.

"That was called the Cha Cha," the prince informed his friend. "Can you do it?"

"I'll try," the bluenette muttered, biting his lip.

"All right," Marth said, snapping his fingers a few times to get a rhythm going. "Five, six, seven, eight."

Ike extended his right foot forward, eyes glued to the carpeted floor. He tried to keep up with the tempo of the Altean's clicks, barely managing to stay on the correct foot. He nearly fell over a few times, but caught his balance. Backing into the line, the Crimean held his breath and awaited criticism.

"Good job, Ike. You did well," the dance master stated, giving his pupil a nod of approval. "Do you want to try something else?"

"Ooh, can we teach him to break dance?!" Roy interjected, sick of staying silent. He smiled from ear to ear.

"No," the prince responded almost harshly. "He'd probably end up actually _breaking _something," he added with a smirk. Ike chuckled nervously, knowing it was all too true.

"Well…can we show him the Caramelldansen?" the redhead inquired, raising his hands to his head and flapping them. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, dancing to an imaginary beat.

"Hey, that's the dance that Pit was doing!" the Crimean cried out, earning a stern glare from Marth due to his loudness. He felt slightly better seeing something a little more familiar than that…Chu Chu thing.

"You said you wanted to learn to dance," Marth began, causing the other two to completely freeze, "as an apology to Pit. Am I correct?"

"Yeah," the headband man muttered, rubbing the sore patch of skin on the back of his neck. He really needed to stop doing that.

The Altean glanced to the shortest of the three, receiving a nod in reply to some sort of lover ESP or something. "Since that's the case, you have to really surprise him. He won't be impressed if you merely imitate his actions," he finally said, eyes locked on Ike in a gentle stare. "…I think we should try ballroom dancing."

"What…? Why ballroom dancing?" Ike asked, his jaw practically making contact with the floor. The shorter male next to him gave a heavy sigh.

"Are you sure he's ready for that, Marth? I mean, he's tripped over his feet a lot already." Roy glanced over to the bluenette, his eyes suddenly apologetic. "I'm sorry, Ike. I didn't mean for that to sound so rude, but…"

"No, it's fine," the buff swordsman replied, holding his hand up to silence the redhead. "I'm bad at dancing. That's been made obvious by now." He exhaled, letting his head fall slightly. "Please, Marth…teach me."

The pretty boy's lips curved into a tiny smile. "Very well," he breathed, tilting his head toward his lover. "Would you care to be Ike's dancing partner, please?"

"Sure…," the little swordsman said, closing the distance between himself and Ike.

"Now take Roy's right hand in your left, and place your right hand at his waist," Marth instructed, waiting as Ike did as he was told. "I'm going to give you a count-off again. This time, the steps will be in sets of three. You're going to step forward, then to the left, then backward, and to your left. After that, the sequence repeats. Do you understand?"

The bluenette's head twitched in response as he pretty much gnawed on his bottom lip. His muscles tensed as the Altean began clicking his fingers like before, trying to find a good tempo.

"Five, six, seven, eight. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three…"

Ike put all of his concentration into his steps, glaring holes into the floor. He watched Roy's bare feet slide across the carpet, careful not to step on them.

"Lead, Ike. Let Roy follow you," Marth commanded, still clicking as he spoke.

Gulping, the Crimean willed his feet to move in the correct directions. He could feel the redhead relax slightly, which he guessed meant that it was easier to follow his messy, uncoordinated footwork. One, two, three. One, two, three. Repeat the process. He felt like he was starting to get the hang of it…until he made one false step.

"Ouch! Jeez, Ike, that was my foot!"

"Sorry, I--crap. Nyagh!"

"All right…stop, stop, _stop_."

Ike released his hold on the younger boy, spluttering out apology after apology. He didn't mean to hurt Roy; the top of his foot already adopted the deep purple colour of a new bruise. He slapped his sweaty hand to his face, growling in ire. This dancing business was seriously _frustrating. _Letting out an aggravated sigh, he plopped down on Marth's bed.

"Pay attention, Ike," the Altean ordered, though not harshly. He beckoned Roy over to him, who was limping slightly from his foot injury. "You have to be confident and take _command_," he instructed, taking the red-head's left hand in his right as his left arm tightened around the smaller swordsman's waist. The prince straightened his back, holding his shoulders high and projecting his chest out. "Posture is key. If you don't have presence--if you don't act like a tree--you won't be able to lead like _this_."

As if on cue, Marth sidestepped, Roy easily following suit. The pretty-haired swordsman pulled his boyfriend closer as they twirled around the limited floor space in their room. The Crimean watched their every move, impressed that Roy could effortlessly keep up with Marth despite his wounded foot. The pair moved about quickly, every once and a while stopping to pose, Ike decided was the best way to put it. When they would pause, Marth's left hand would trail down Roy's leg as he drew the boy closer.

There was something in the prince's eyes that scared the bluenette to bits. He had never seen the other look so…he didn't even know how to describe it. Observing these somewhat sexual actions, he began to wonder if Marth expected him to act like that while practicing this style of dance. He certainly hoped not, because things would be just plain awkward.

"Did you catch that, Ike?" the Altean inquired, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Crimean snapped from his thoughts, shaking his head violently. "Catch what…? Gah, I'm sorry, Marth…," he muttered, hanging his arms between his open legs. "I noticed that you, well…you were acting…er, different."

"I see…you _were_ paying attention. Good job."

"…Huh?"

"Dancing is about passion," Marth said, striding over to his bluenette buddy. He knelt down before him, sinking below his eye level. "When you dance with Pit," he began, placing his hand on Ike's knee, "you have to hold him like it's the last time you'll ever see him."

Ike glanced up without moving his head, making eye contact with his teacher. "…Like I never want to let him go?" he questioned in a tone so unlike anything Marth ever heard coming from his mouth. He sounded like a beaten puppy.

"Exactly," the pretty boy replied with a reassuring smile.

"You can do it, Ike!" Roy cried from the other side of the room, balancing on his uninjured foot. He flashed the brightest smile he could muster as he limped over to the other two swordsmen. Taking a knee next to his boyfriend, he poked Ike's foot. "You can step on me all you want until you get it right!" The redhead let out a giggle as Marth ruffled his messy nest of hair.

Rising to his full height, the Altean offered a hand to his lover to help him up. "Well…are you ready to continue, Ike?" he asked softly, allowing Roy to lean on him for support.

A few silent moments passed before the Crimean forced himself to his feet. He took in a deep breath and released it, lifting his head to half-smile at his sword-fighting friends. "Yeah…I'm ready."

"Let's get to it, then. I'll be your dance partner," Marth said. "Roy…you should ice your foot. You remember where the kitchen is, yes?"

"Mhm," Roy said with a nod, limping over to the door. "I'll be back in a few." With that, the red-head exited the room, leaving Marth to continue to teach Ike the fundamentals of dancing.

Despite his slow movements due to his foot injury, it didn't take Roy very long to find the kitchen. He spent a lot of his time there back when he lived in the Smash Mansion during his melee days, so he knew exactly where to go. On the way there, he passed by his old buddies Link and Pikachu; they were on their way to a match, so they didn't have time to stop and chat, which the red-head understood. He gently pushed the door to the kitchen open, hopping inside.

Using the countertops for support, he made his way through the cabinet areas, the section with the sinks and all the dishwashing machines, then the refrigerators before he made it to the freezers. Scanning the white boxes, he located the giant one labeled 'ICE' and wobbled over to it. He retrieved a plastic bag from a box that was so conveniently stapled to the wall, then opened the freezer and grabbed a handful of frozen cubes.

"Ouch…that's cold," he muttered to himself as he winced, dropping the ice into the bag and shaking the remnants off his numb hand. He reached for another handful, then shut the freezer top with his elbow. The red-head zipped the bag shut and began his search for a towel to wrap it in.

Surprisingly enough, there were no towels by the sinks where they should have been. Perhaps they had been taken to be washed? Roy made his way back to the freezer area, then turned left to head through the room with all the stoves and ovens. He had to go through there to get to the laundry closet in the back, where he guessed would be the next best place to find a clean towel. He pushed open the door to the oven room, immediately overwhelmed by the enticing aroma of fried chicken.

"Mmm…that smells great…," he murmured, taking a big whiff of the delicious scent. "I wonder who's cooking?" He glanced through the three rows of stovetops, laying eyes on a tuft of messy brown hair near the oven in the back corner. Limping, he weaved through the unused machines and made his way in the direction of the chickeny goodness.

"…Pit? Is that you?"

--

Hm. Why is Pit cooking chicken? You'll find out next chapter.

I hope this wasn't a total bust.

Until next time,  
Chibi


	3. No Fried Chicken For Ike?

At long, long last. Chapter 3. This is the second to last chapter of this loverly little crackfic.

It's so weird writing for Marth and Ike in the Smash Bros. universe, after playing Path of Raidance and Shadow Dragon. xP

Not much else to say for this, except my apologies for awful characterization and random crack. Enjoy? xD

**Warning: Hints of shounen-ai. But really, you all knew that. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. Blah.**

--

Pit's face flushed as red as Roy's hair.

Letting out a small laugh, the Pheraen leaned against an idle stove and brought his foot up from the floor. "I didn't know you could cook," he said, setting his bag of ice down on the greasy electric burner. Man, these things _really _needed to be cleaned.

The blushing angel opened his mouth a few times to speak, but no words escaped the knot in his throat. Instead, he shrugged and gave his wings a flap before turning away from the redhead. "I…I've been practicing lately," he muttered as he picked the tongs up from the right of the burner to turn the chicken frying in the pan. He cowered as he felt Roy's eyes stare holes into him, studying him as he flipped the cooking poultry.

"Is there something I can do to help?" the swordsman asked.

"Uh…if you could get another stove and pan ready, that would be great," Pit said, some of his nervousness ebbing away. "I'm helping with dinner for tonight, and fried chicken is the main dish."

"I can't wait to try it," Roy replied as he hopped up to reach a large pan dangling from the holder above his oven. He took care not to land on his bad foot, though. Instead, after placing the pan on one of the front burners, he dropped his ice bag on the floor and pressed the top of his foot onto the freezing plastic. "Want me to start up the fire?"

"No, that's okay. I can do that myself," the angel said, emptying the chicken from his own pan onto a large platter with other already-cooked pieces. "Thank you, though." Then, he added with a smile, "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise," the redhead said as he moved out of Pit's way, allowing him to take over. A silence settled over the two as Roy's thoughts began to drift away from the amazing smell of frying bird meat. If he remembered correctly, Ike mentioned that he hadn't seen Pit in days…and here he was, making fried chicken. The sudden urge to ask the captain about the predicament suddenly rose. But how to approach it without sounding rude…that was a different story. "…Pit?"

"Yes, Roy?" he brunette said as he turned the knob on the stove. Blue flames erupted beneath the new pan.

It took the swordsman a few moments to find the right words to say. "…I was just wondering how things were going with you and Ike," he said as nonchalantly as possible. He leaned against an empty stovetop to take some pressure off his bruised foot. He noticed immediately how Pit froze in his actions, every muscle in his body tensing.

"Well…," the angel uttered, stiffly resuming his deep frying task. "He and I sort of…had a dispute."

Even though Roy already knew that much, he was still in the dark about all the details of what happened. Curiosity got the better of him once again. "What happened?" he asked tentatively.

Pit flipped the chicken in the pan, tossing around different words in his head. "It was something very little that I overreacted to," he admitted, hanging his laurelled head in shame. "I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt my feelings. So to make it up to him, I've been learning how to cook chicken. For Ike."

The redhead resisted the urge to squee--not that it was in his nature to do so anyway, but the situation was just _adorable_--and instead just smiled warmly. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it, Pit."

The familiar light returned to the brunette's cerulean eyes as he, too, let a smile grace his lips. "I hope so. " With a pair of tongs, he plated the finished chicken on a huge platter to take out to the mess hall buffet. "But please! Don't tell Ike about this! I want to give the chicken to him myself," Pit blurted suddenly, his hands folded together as he pleaded.

Cracking a small laugh, Roy rested his hand on Pit's shoulder. "Don't worry; I won't say a word." To enforce what he said, he pulled his fingers across his lips in the motion of closing a zipper.

"Thank you, Roy!" the little angel exclaimed enthusiastically. "Now, will you assist me in setting up the buffet?"

"Of course, if you're okay with me limping," the Pheraen said with a laugh.

--

"Man, I'm soooooo hungry!" the blue-haired mercenary groaned as he stood in the hallway, waiting for Marth to shut and lock the door to his room. "Dancing really is hard work…"

"It is a form of exercise, after all," the Altean prince pointed out as he and Ike began to traverse down the hall. "You're bound to have hunger and thirst afterwards."

Ike's gloved hand fell to his stomach as it growled, nearly so loudly it almost echoed off the walls. "I wonder what's for dinner tonight?" he thought aloud, turning to Marth. "Did you happen to catch what's on the menu?"

"No," the pretty boy said simply, combing delicate fingers through his styled bangs. "I'm sure whatever has been prepared will more than satiate you, though," he added with a smirk. If Ike weren't so tired, Marth would have a nice bruise on his arm, courtesy of a punch. The prince tapped his chin in thought. "I wonder if Roy just decided to stick around down there? He didn't come back to the room…"

The taller bluenette blinked, scratching his head. "You're right…I hope I didn't hurt his foot _that _badly." Suddenly, Ike felt extremely guilty. He cursed his two left feet, glaring at them with each step they took on the carpeted stairs leading down to the mess hall.

"He'll be fine," Marth assured his student, pushing the door to the cafeteria open with a flick of his wrist. His blue eyes immediately caught sight of his boyfriend, sitting at the table closest to the buffet. A loving smile befell his face as the short redhead waved to him. Looks like he already had his food. A few more of the Smashers had already gathered for the evening meal, but many had yet to show up. Perfect timing; there would still be plenty of food left.

"Hi Marth, Ike!" Roy greeted as the two other swordsman approached him. He stifled a laugh as Ike's nose raised in the air, undoubtedly taking in the wonderful aroma of fried chicken. "There's plenty of it over there still," he said with a snicker, watching as the mercenary high-tailed it for the buffet. He then shifted his attention to Marth, cocking his head to the side. "So, how'd the dance lessons go?"

The prince took a seat across from Roy, folding his hands neatly on the table. "He's gotten better…he will most likely not be bruising any more feet," he added with a chuckle. "How is your foot doing? Did you get ice?"

"Yes, yes," the redhead sighed, waving his hand. "It's fine…just hurts, is all. No need to worry." With that, he shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Marth rose from his seat. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'm going to get some f--"

"_NOOOOOOOOOOOOO_!"

The sudden scream caught every single dining Smasher off guard, some even dropping their plates in surprise. Did someone just _die_ or something?

Snake, who had just filled his plate with food, turned in ire to the source of the yelling. "What the hell was _that_ for, Ike?!" he sputtered angrily. He scoffed as the mercenary dropped to his knees, nearly sobbing.

"Ike, what in blazes--" Marth began as he approached his friend, but was rudely interrupted by the mercenary's wails.

"Maaaarth….look!" Ike cried, pointing to a sign beneath the fried chicken.

_Ike is not permitted to have any fried chicken. -- Management_

--

lol, what an awful way to end the chapter. But I promise that there is a point for that mysterious sign that came out of nowhere. xD And who the hell is 'Management' anyway? Could be the hands...

Until next time,  
Chibi


	4. Ike and Pit Have Their Happy Ending

And finally, after over a year, this story is DONE. I never planned to drag it out this long, and frankly, I'm glad to see it come to a close. It was eating away at my soul. X3

In all reality, though, it's so hard for me to write this pairing anymore now that I've actually played through Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn. IkexSoren is my OTP, so writing IkexPit puts a lot of strain on me to write now. That's mostly why this fic died for so long, and to all of my loyal readers who have been with this story since chapter one, I deeply apologize. -bows-

That being said, I would also like to thank EVERYONE who has reviewed/alerted/favourited this fic. You guys make me smile, and give me a little more incentive to write (even if it does take me forever to update OTL). It's great to know that people like my stories. So thank you everyone, from the bottom of my heart.

Enjoy the last chapter of I Can't Dance!

**Disclaimer: Same. For realz.**

--

"Please, Marth? Just one piece?"

"No."

"_Pleeeeeeeeeeease_?"

"No. And that's final."

Ike huffed, his bottom lip protruding into a pout. His blue eyes spared a glace over at that wretched sign hanging beneath the fried chicken. Just reading the words written in thick black Sharpie made his blood boil. He didn't do anything wrong, so why was he forbidden from eating his favourite food in the whole world?

And of _course_ Marth--just to taunt him, Ike was convinced--decided not to be a health nut and pile fried chicken onto his plate. Being the stickler for rules that he was, the Altean prince wouldn't let Ike have even a bite. It was so infuriating!

"Screw this, then; I'm going up to my room," the mercenary grunted, his ever-present scowl forming deeper wrinkles in his face. With jerky motions, he rose from the table and stormed out of the cafeteria.

Roy, who began digging into his tapioca pudding, watched with a saddened expression as his friend left in such a huff. "I kinda feel bad for 'im, Marth. Fried chicken is his favourite food." Shoving his spoonful of deliciousness into his mouth, another thought crossed his mind. In the kitchen, Pit had said that the chicken was specifically for Ike. So why wasn't he allowed to have any? Of course he couldn't bring this troubling question to the surface--he had promised the angel he wouldn't speak a word of it.

"He'll live," the pretty-boy said, finishing off his last fried drumstick. He was about to start on his green bean casserole when extremely loud music began pulsating through the air. "What in the world…?" he inquired aloud, searching around to find the source of the noise. Link had apparently brought his radio with him to dinner, and was now break dancing to "Shake What Your Mama Gave Ya."

The Pherean laughed at the sight of the Hylian busting his moves across the mess hall, proceeded with a giggle snort as Link tripped and fell on his face. "What is it with everyone and dancing today?" he asked Marth, still trying to control his laughter.

The Altean shook his head. "I have absolutely no idea…"

--

Ike was still fuming when he reached the door to his room. What an awful day. He had still seen no sign of Pit. He asked _Marth_ of all people to teach him how to dance. He _failed miserably_ at aforementioned task. Then he _**wasn't allowed to have any fried chicken**_. There was nothing that could make things worse at this point.

Sighing, the bluenette twisted the doorknob and shoved the door open. Suddenly, the smell of fried chicken invaded his senses, and he just about died.

He was convinced that someone was fucking with him now, and it was _**not **_funny.

His mumblings of conspiracies ceased as soon as he spotted a giant porcelain platter of fried chicken atop his comforter.

…Wait. His bed was made? And there was _chicken_ on it?!

"I'm sorry about the sign."

Ike jumped at the voice. It was a voice he recognized better than any other sound. He drew his eyes away from the chicken and glanced up to find Pit closing the sliding glass door to their balcony. A smile graced his lips. "Pit…"

"I was making chicken for you," the angel continued to explain, "when Master Hand came in and told me if I was making food, I should cook for the whole mansion." The brunette let out a small laugh as he made his way toward the mercenary. "I was a little upset, since it was supposed to be a surprise for you, but I went ahead and cooked all the food. I made you your own special batch of chicken, though." He gestured to the platter on Ike's bed.

"Pit, I…" the mercenary paused, not knowing what to say. He scratched the back of his head, his cheeks flushing the lightest shade of pink. "Thank you, Pit. That means a lot. And…" He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, glaring holes into the carpeted floor. "I'm…sorry for the other day. Calling your dancing stupid…it was wrong of me."

"Ike, you don't need to apologize!" Pit said firmly, now standing in front of his roommate. "It was my fault for overreacting! If anything, I should be saying sorry to _you_!"

"It's okay, Pit. Really," Ike said, mustering up another smile. "I've…actually been thinking of a way to make it up to you."

The angel stared up at him with curious cerulean eyes. The bluenette took a deep breath before taking Pit's hand in his and pulling him close. Pit gasped in surprise. "Ike?" he asked. A shiver traversed down his spine as Ike placed a hand on Pit's waist.

The bluenette, trying to hide his embarrassment, cleared his throat before speaking. "I wanted to prove to you that I don't really think dancing is stupid…," he muttered.

"How--"

Pit's question was cut off as Ike took a step and started twirling Pit around their room. The angel immediately caught on to his partner's actions, and quickly fell into step. The pair danced around their available floor space, Ike repeating Marth's counts in his head and miraculously not stepping on Pit's feet.

They whirled around for a few minutes until Ike dipped Pit, much like he had seen Marth do with Roy during his lessons. His heart fluttered as he suddenly became nervous, and his cheeks flared a tomato red. Pit's face was a shade to match.

"I…I'm sorry, Pit. Forgive me?" the mercenary asked meekly.

The angel nodded and smiled. "Of course, Ike."

Ike's lips curved upward into a smirk. "Good." To seal the deal, he leaned in and captured Pit's lips with his own. The moment was too perfect to pass up.

And, after a few long days of dancing and cooking chicken, everything was resolved.

--

Yayz. Everything is all happy now. :3

Note: I got the idea of Link breakdancing from this flash I saw on deviantART. It's great. XD

Thanks for reading my silly little crack fic all the way through!

Peace out,  
Chibs


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